


I Forgot To Say

by Wildgoosery



Series: I'm With the Band [22]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildgoosery/pseuds/Wildgoosery
Summary: Brad and Taako have another go at being coworkers. Kravitz handily misses the fallout.





	I Forgot To Say

Kravitz is in a hurry that afternoon, abashed and charming but also inflexible. He doesn't even come through the portal with them after he’s sliced it open. He kisses them both while they're still in the ethereal in-between -- distracted pecks on the cheek, which Brad obligingly leans down for -- then shoos them through the sunlit window in the air with some cheerful variant of "see you soon" which Brad is too off-kilter to retain. It all has the distinct flavor of being dropped off at school, and he supposes that’s appropriate.

Brad still isn't used to the Reaper way of doing things. Once he's stepped through into Refuge, his shoes crunching on pebbled ground as reality knits back together behind him, he stands blinking in the hot desert sun for several seconds past what's dignified.

A hand slips into his own, thin fingers pressed hard into his palm. He turns to find Taako staring at the wooden sign over the town gate, chin tilted up and eyes narrowed, like he's taking the measure of someone. Like the sign -- the town maybe -- might take a swing at him.

Taako squeezes Brad's hand, brief but fierce, then drops it in the same smooth swing of his arm that carries his own hand up to his brow. He pushes his fingers back though his hair, not the fidgeting nervousness Brad's grown used to but an affected preen that shouts nonchalance.

It's a performance, of course, and one that has an audience. Every head on the dusty main street has turned toward them, eyes lit up with recognition. There are faces in the windows of businesses to either side -- a general store, a blacksmith, a cheerfully painted saloon. All in good repair but with a patched quality that suggests deep-rooted frugality, a community of tinkerers accustomed to doing things themselves, out here on the far side of the canyons of Woven Gulch. 

Taako's hand flicks out in an easy wave that takes in all of it. He smiles at no one in particular, pleasantly bland, and this Brad understands very well; he knows all about becoming a friendly wall. 

A human woman in worn jeans veers off-course to intercept them, grinning in the shade of a wide-brimmed hat. "Taako, weren't sure if we'd be seeing you this week!" She catches Taako's hand and gives it a firm shake. "How's the family? Your sister well?" 

"Oh she's fabulous, absolutely loving the new gig," Taako answers smoothly. "I mean she's gonna put Krav out of a job but he's a few centuries overdue for retirement, amirite? Lock that handsome workaholic in a beach house for a few weeks, just make sure I'm in there with him." 

The woman chuckles appreciatively. "And Magnus? He taking care of himself?"

"Every time I see him he's covered in dog fur and sawdust, he's living his best fucking life, don't you worry."

"Tell him to drop by more often, won't you? We all want to hear the latest, and it's always good to see him." The woman offers Brad a curious smile. "Sorry, I'm sure we've must’ve met before but my mind's a sieve these days...."

"I'm an old colleague from the Bureau," Brad says, and sees Taako relax fractionaly in his peripheral vision. "Brad Bradson, pleasure to meet you."

"Midge," the woman says. She gives him a considering look as they shake hands. "Oh, now I know where I've seen you! The Landfall Gala, there was a photograph of you and Lucretia! You still at the Bureau, then? Here on official business?"

"I am still at the Bureau, but I've come as a personal favor to Taako," Brad says, now deep in the pocket of bland professional cadance. 

"More like a personal favor to Ren," Taako says breezily. "I'm a big picture guy, those nerds can hash out building permits or whatever, they love it."

The woman laughs and shakes Taako's hand a second time. She looks as if she'd very much like to hug him as they exchange polite goodbyes. 

“Before you ask, yeah it's always like this," Taako mutters, shaded with self-consciousness. "I'd get Krav to drop me off indoors, but folks here notice if I try and sneak around and then it makes shit weird for Ren." 

"And what about you?" Brad asks quietly.

Taako shrugs. "It's a small town, it's fine."

They've barely made it another three yards down the main street when they're hailed again, this time by a gnomish woman in a waistcoat, who wants to know if Magnus will really be renting the cottage near the residence of someone named Paloma.

It's a pattern that plays out three times further: a greeting from a passerby, an exchange of pleasantries, an efficient exit. Taako coolly magnanimous, a mask of charm firmly in place, although Brad suspects it all feels far less calculated to strangers than it does to him; that no one else can see the strain at the corner of Taako's mouth, or the way his eyes dart toward the doors of the saloon, as if judging the distance. 

The saloon -- the "Davy Lamp" -- buzzes with music and conversation as they finally step inside, out of the brutal sun. Taako explained that this is where he takes his meetings, but Brad wonders how they'll accomplish anything in this room full of people, all of whom pause in their conversation to smile at Taako. They have the look of those people from the street, bursting with fondness and questions.

There's a drow woman standing just inside the door, whom Brad doesn't notice until she steps neatly in beside them to hook her arm through Taako's. Ren, Brad suspects, a guess that's further cemented as she slides through the crowd like a hot knife, Taako and Brad in a duckling trail behind her. She carries herself with the polite single-minded efficiency of a woman who runs the only bar in town, and who has managed to corner Taako into talking about zoning laws.

She shepherds them through a narrow door behind the bar, and into a cosy wood-paneled office filled with plants and sunlight. "You must be Brad," she says as she shuts the door behind them. He can feel a spell snap into place as she turns the lock, and the noise from the bar drops away. "Taako's told me all about you, so nice to finally have a chance to get acquainted!"

It's then that Brad realizes he's seen her before. This is the woman from Carey and Killian's party; from the night when he'd first seen Taako again, and then immediately turned to run for it.

"A pleasure," Brad says, too stiff, as he and Taako sit down opposite her desk. "Taako and I know each other from work, and he asked if I might sit in on your meeting today to-"

"Bradson, my dude, she uh..." Taako laughs. "Listen, she makes me tell her everything."

"It's my job to be aware of potential liability and conflicts of interest," Ren says primly. And then, less formal, "I hear you're a brewer? Honestly, Mr. Bradson, I'd love to try something you've made, now that the bubble's gone we're always looking for new varieties to carry here at the saloon."

"Oh, I'm..." Brad’s smile quirks into something more genuine. "It's only a hobby, but I'm happy to share my amateur experiments. And please, just ‘Brad’ is fine."

"Well there we are, just as all the tales I’ve been told, handsome _and_ polite," she says, and Brad feels warmth in his cheeks and she smiles and turns to the papers on her desk. “All right, there’s an awful lot to get through today so I put an agenda together, all the urgent bits are up at the top but let’s see if we can’t power through the whole thing.” She offers handwritten papers to both Taako and Brad, a long list of dot points in duplicate. Brad notices that on Taako’s copy, a few items have been heavily underlined in an eye-catching red.

He has authored many agendas of his own, and as he scans down the list of item he sorts it all into categories: infrastructure, administration, outreach, mission. He takes a pen from his front pocket and marks the topics on which he feels he has the most to offer, then scrawls a few first impressions into the margins. “Just for my reference,” he says, “what’s the timeline for major milestones? Some of the paperwork may have to be expedited, depending, but I have experience with that.”

Taako kicks one leg up and over the other to rest ankle on knee. “Doors open in the fall, my dude,” he says, pleased. 

Brad glances up at him — takes in the easy grin, his relaxed posture in Ren’s wooden chair — then looks down at the paper again. “ _This_ Fall,” Brad says carefully. “As in ten months from now.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking forever but Ren tells me these things take time, so.” Taako sighs and shrugs. “Why, you think we can shave a few months off? Summer semester soft open?”

Brad is still looking at the paper. “Forgive me, Ren, I may be misunderstanding your process, but the first item on your agenda for today seems to be ‘Site Selection.’ Have you not decided on a location for the campus?”

“We have not,” Ren says, just as careful as him.

“Have there been... _difficulties_ with the local government?”

“I keep telling her we should just build it here in Refuge, there’s a ton of space and let’s be real, she’s gonna be running all the day-to-day,” Taako drawls. “But Ren’s got a stick up her ass about it for whatever reason-“

“Refuge doesn’t have the transportation _or_ the supply infrastructure to handle the number of students you’re hoping for,” Ren says, slow and patient. “I would love to stay close to home but it just doesn’t appear to be practical.”

“Brad built a whole town, I told you, he knows how to do this stuff,” Taako says. “You think the Bureau had a train station this time last year?”

“The village of Landfall is proximate to several towns and major roads, and was less than ten miles from the Stillwater Rail Line,” Brad says, and it’s odd to be using this voice to speak to Taako; to be explaining these kinds of things to _him_. “It’s also situated within the county of Tussex, which had an existing council of villages. Connecting the Bureau and its environs to extant Faerun infrastructure was labor-intensive but straightforward.”

Taako sits in a pose of listening, but already his ears are starting to drift, his eyes darting over to the bookshelves and the potted plants by the window. 

“Refuge is surrounded by unincorporated government lands, and separated from the nearest rail line by no fewer than a hundred miles. The Goldcliff Line, I believe?” Brad pauses and looks to Ren, who nods with a weary resignation which suggests this isn’t the first time Taako’s had this explained to him. “And I don’t expect the situation with the roads is much better.”

“They’re narrow, they get washed out every time it rains, and the grade’s too steep for large wagons,” Ren supplies. And then adds, even wearier, “Again, Taako, it’s a nice thought but I just don’t think it’s practical.”

Taako blows out a sigh and leans back further in his chair, his head lolling. “Ugh.”

Ren forges on with practiced determination. “Now, like I said before, I’ve found some real promising places up near Copperton, and also down along the Flax River. They’re in the budget we agreed on, and they’ve got the roads and the rail we’ll need to build a campus, bring in the kids and keep them fed and happy.

“There’s like, a zillion randos crawling all over both those fuckin’ places,” Taako mutters. “Don’t we wanna prioritize like...” He waves his hand. “Hell, I dunno, a ‘sheltered learning environment’ or some bullshit?”

“Well, it’s true that areas with the infrastructure we’ll need will tend to be...populated,” Ren says. “But I’m confident we can work with the local community to make sure the students have plenty of peace and quiet to concentrate on their studies.”

Taako bounces his foot on his knee. “Okay but consider, if we put it _here_ your commute would be like, ten minutes tops.”

“I’m surprised you would want the school to be this far from where you live,” Brad says.

“Well it’s not like I’d be there most of the time anyway, like that’s what the staff is for, I’m just trying to be nice to Ren, _Bradson_ ,” Taako drawls, the tone still playful but not without an edge. “Also the land out here is dirt fuckin’ cheap.”

“I understand wanting to be cautious with regards to your… notoriety,” Brad says, not quite ready to be shaken off, “and I appreciate that you’ve settled into a relationship with the locals here, but-”

“The thing about Refuge,” Taako says, “is that everyone likes Magnus at _least_ twice as much as me. Like no accounting for taste, but all I gotta do is toss a wooden duck out in the town square to get them off my ass, y’know? I’m just saying, we gotta system here.”

“A social system perhaps,” Brad says, “but, as I said. Not a rail system.”

“What if we set up like, some kind of portal? Like a permanent version of Krav’s thing. Just march those little fuckers through a hole in the air.”

“Taako, you know I love your sense of humor but we really do have a lot to get through today,” Ren says -- still cheerful, still smiling. “So do you have an opinion on Copperton versus the Flax River basin? Will one of those options work for you?”

“Whatever you think,” Taako says, “whatever you and Brad want, y’all know better than me, right?” He glances over at Brad and brightens a little, a smile at the corners of his mouth. 

“The area along the Flax River is quiet without being overly isolated,” Brad says. “That would be my recommendation.”

“Thank you,” Ren says with audible relief. “All right then, the next item-”

“How we feeling about uniforms?” Taako muses. “Kinda fascist but it gives the whole operation some flare, you know? Makes for slick-ass group photos, plus that’s another built-in river of cash _and_ all those little shits turn into walking billboards, like that’s some primo branded content.”

“There are great arguments both for and against uniforms,” Ren says, “but before we get to that, let’s figure out what our targets are for enrollment?”

“Our targets are on the backs of every poor sucker that Lucas Fucking Miller’s got signed up for his nerd prep school.”

“My understanding is that the Academy of Arcane Sciences is focused on theory and history, as well as a certain amount of artificing and magical engineering,” Brad says, “whereas your, ah… your _school_ would be more centered on practice and practical application.”

“Yes, exactly,” Ren says, audibly grateful to have an ally in this. “There’s no reason why the two schools can’t be complimentary. A little competition livens things up, but if we’re mindful about how we plan our curriculum-”

“I can’t believe Angus signed up for that crock of bullshit,” Taako mutters. He reaches over to pluck another pen from Brad’s pocket, then clicks it open as he slouches down even further in his chair, Ren’s list propped on his knee. For a moment Brad thinks Taako may actually be preparing to take notes of some kind, but instead the pen traces idle loops in the margins. “That traitor, he’s lucky he’s like eight or whatever.”

“Eleven,” Brad and Ren both say.

“Now, I think there’s no reason not to keep things modest for the first few semesters,” Ren goes on, determined. “Given the material, I’m inclined to break the student body down by ability rather than age. And having done some research, I think that having three classes of no more than fifty students would strike a good balance between collecting sufficient tuition to cover operating costs and keeping our commitments to a reasonable-”

“What about a castle?” Taako says.

Ren’s mouth snaps shut, and she blinks at him for a moment. “I’m sorry?”

“What if instead of building a campus we just put the whole thing in a castle,” Taako says. “There’s castles near train stations, right? I just feel like it would lend the whole operation a little atmosphere. A little _class_ , y’dig?”

Ren looks down at the paper in her hands, her lips pressed into a line. 

Brad hesitates as he watches all of this unfold, surveying the battlefield he’s been dragged into the middle of, the momentum and balance of politics. This is Ren’s domain and he is still a stranger to her, as she is to him. But Taako he knows very well. Taako he can handle, and while he has no desire to infringe on Ren’s sovereignty, he’s aware that there are tools available to him which are both unique and highly effective. 

“Taako,” he says, the register of his voice shifted deliberately lower. “In order to make the best use of this time, why don’t we focus on the items which require your personal input, and discuss them in the order which Ren has outlined.” The phrasing is politely innocuous, but his tone is one usually reserved for instructing Taako to bend over a table. 

The reaction is so immediate that it takes an effort not to laugh. Taako’s ears flatten and he sits up straighter in his chair, both feet on the floor now, pen and paper held in his lap. His eyes have gone a little wide as he glances at Brad, colors, and looks back down at Ren’s list. “Good call,” he says, in as professional a tone as Brad has ever heard him use. 

“Let’s see if we can stay on topic,” Brad rumbles. He unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves and rolls them up his forearms, a shamelessly underhanded tactic. “If you have a tangential question or comment, make a note and we’ll return to it later.” 

Taako’s throat moves as he swallows. “Sure thing.”

The next two hours pass something like smoothly. Ren seems to have a thorough hard-won knowledge of which details Taako cares about, and having been granted permission to make all other decisions herself, she marches through her list with quiet efficiency, iron under her smile. Never unfriendly, not really even disapproving, but determined in a way Brad recognizes in himself from his years of meetings with Lucretia, who cares so deeply about the Bureau and its work but has no mind at all for budgets or reporting structures or keeping a floating office campus well-supplied and in good repair.

Brad does worry at first about having pressed his advantage too far. He was brought along to “help” but as the meeting progresses, Taako has less and less to offer in terms of opinions, and settles into watching Brad and Ren work through most of her agenda by themselves. Still, that silence isn’t sullen in the way Brad would have expected; there’s no irritated petulance at being left out. Taako listens with his ears perked forward, his back erect, and his eyes largely on Brad. Smiling, sometimes, for non-obvious reasons. His scattered comments shaped by the usual bravado, and his quiet by a sort of soft attentiveness. Along the way he lifts a hand and lays it on Brad’s forearm, just below the cuff, and it stays there for the rest of the hour. A slight warm weight, distractingly unexpected. 

Brad can’t think of another time when he and Taako have sat together and talked with anyone other than Kravitz. And a part of him feels a thrill in his chest, boyish and shy, at the fond possessiveness of an idle hand on his skin.

But the rest of him remains firmly grounded in this meeting — in their conversion and its course, and in a sinking awareness of what it all implies.

The morning passes; checkmarks progress down the side of Brad’s paper. A handful of details are hammered out, and plans are made to attack what remains. The room warms pleasantly as sunlight pours in through the windows. Taako laces their fingers together.

“I think we made some great progress today,” Ren says as she tidies the papers on her desk. “Mr. Bradson, really I can’t thank you enough for finding the time, I didn’t have the first idea of how much you’d done to get Landfall put together.”

Taako’s arm is looped through the crook of Brad’s elbow, and he says, “Brad’s handy like that,” with a fond smugness that makes Brad feel a bit like a prize on display. And also like an absolute ass, given what’s been simmering on his mind’s back burner.

“I’d love to stay and jaw a little about everything y’all have gotten up to,” Ren says, the earlier formality once again falling away, “but I’ve gotta go get the saloon sorted before the dinner crowd turns up.” She smiles at Taako as they all get to their feet. “Is Mr. Kravitz picking you up?”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna have him go ahead and portal straight into the office, if that’s kosher,” Taako says. “Kinda....full up on The Public.”

Ren comes around from behind her desk and pats him on the shoulder, sympathetic. “Go ahead and stay in here as long as you like,” she says. “Say hello to Mr. Kravitz when you see him. And y’all come back and visit anytime, no need to wait for business.”

Brad thanks her for her kindness, and Taako makes vague pleasant noises about future plans. She offers them a handshake and a hug in turn, then slips out the door and closes it behind her. 

Before the latch has even clicked into place, Taako is reaching to cup Brad’s jaw and pull him down for a tiptoe kiss. “You’re the fucking worst,” Taako drawls against his lips. “I can’t believe you made zoning bylaws sound hot, like how _dare_ you.”

Brad presses an automatic hand to the small of Taako’s back, and lingers in another kiss. Because Taako remains infuriatingly kissable regardless of context, yes, but also to buy himself more time to decide what he’s going to say.

“Yeah sorry, gonna have to drag you to all future meetings,” Taako murmurs when they come up for air. “Mandatory attendance.”

“Mm.”

Taako leans into Brad with a sigh, cheek against the front of his shirt and hands tucking into both back pockets. “I mean Ren obviously likes you,” Taako says, a bit muffled. “We’re gonna get so much more shit done this way. And we don’t have to come here all the time, like maybe she can swing by the apartment? She hasn’t seen Krav for more than five minutes since forever. She could help me make dinner, like don’t tell her I said this but she’s a really fucking good cook.”

“I would be happy to have dinner with Ren anytime,” Brad says.

Taako gives him a squeeze and then turns around, leaning back against him like he’s a tree. Or a wall, which is closer to his mood. “We gotta come up with a title for you,” Taako says as he pulls out his Stone and flicks open the texting spell. “‘Consultant’ feels too temp. ‘Director’s obviously right out. Hmmmmmmm....” His thumbs move over the arcane keyboard. “How about ‘Chancellor,’ that’s got a good ring to it, got that velvet robe mouthfeel.”

Taako’s hair smells lovely, and his skin glows a rich warm copper in the slanted sunlight, and his ass is pushed with clear intent right up against Brad’s groin. Brad notices all of this, because he isn’t blind or dead, but they’re experienced with the shuttered remove of his personal variant on panic. He asks, “Is there any further business you need to attend to before we leave?”

Taako sends the text he’s been typing, closes up the spell and the Stone, and tucks it away into his pocket. The comfortable weight of his lean shifts away as he stands up straight, then slowly spins around on his heel to peer up at Brad with frowning suspicion. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not,” Brad says, and he can hear how transparently cornered it sounds.

“Wow okay, make that _really_ weird,” Taako says, frown deepening. At this point it still has the cast of concern, but Brad doesn’t expect that to last. “Come on, cough it up, big guy, what’s your deal? What’d I do?

Brad does not want to have this conversation at all, but especially doesn’t want it to unfold in someone else’s office. “I’d like my pen back,” he says.

“This is not about a pen,” Taako says, although he does reach up to return the borrowed pen to where he’d found it. Then he lays his hand against Brad’s breast pocket, pens and all. “Listen, I know I’m asking a lot of you here,” Taako says, more softly. “Like of course we can pay you, I just didn’t want things to be awkward...“

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing.”

Taako rolls his eyes. “Bradson, I’ll fucking cast ‘Zone of Truth’ on you I swear to god.” His tone is playful, which only makes it worse. “Come on, I _promise_ I won’t be a shithead about it, whatever it is.”

Brad’s voice is deep in lockdown as he says, “I’d really rather not get into this now.”

Taako clicks his tongue. “Too bad.”

“When we’re back at your apartment, we can-“

“I was joking about all that shit with Dweeb Lord Miller,” Taako says. “You know I’m not actually going to call Child Protective Services, like he’s an asshole but-“

“Taako, I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” It bursts too harshly out of him, an impatient snap he regrets midway through saying it.

Taako’s ears flatten. He chuckles, confused. “Why I’m… asking you what’s-“

“The school,” Brad says. No turning back. “I don’t understand what possessed you to decide to open a school.”

“Why wouldn’t I open a school? I’ve got money, I’ve got time, Ren’s game, the world needs boxes to stick their kids in-“

“This is exactly what I mean,” Brad says, desperately trying not to retreat into safe cold formality. He ends up somewhere between annoyed and defensive, which isn’t any better. “You don’t like children. You don’t like bureaucracies. You have no interest in pedagogy. You spent most of today’s meeting talking about frivolous details, and actively obstructed all efforts to do the actual work of organizing an educational institution. I can’t think of a single person of my acquaintance _less_ suited to founding a school, with the possible exception of Kravitz.”

Taako stares at Brad for several shocked seconds, his mouth hanging partly open. His voice is painfully unsure as he says, “Hey listen, I get that we have a whole thing we do but this is...” He chuckles a little, thin and nervous. “Gotta be honest, here, this feels kinda over the line.”

Brad isn’t so much a coward that he looks away, but the expression on Taako’s face leaves him with no idea of how to reply. He presses his lips together.

Taako’s ears dip lower. “Wait are you serious with this shit?”

“I take you very seriously,” Brad says. “Which is why I’m not comfortable being dishonest with you.”

“Huh.” Taako folds his arms over his chest. Splotchy redness spreads across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His eyes are on Ren’s desk. “Well, in that case you can fuck off, I guess?”

Brad sighs. “Taako-“

“You sit in on one meeting and now you’re a fucking expert authority on how I do my job?”

“This isn’t a job,” Brad says.

Taako’s fingers dig into his upper arms, his shoulders hunching forward. “I sit in meetings, I have an agenda to go through, I have an employee, most of it’s boring,” he mutters, acidic. “Sure feels like a job to me, asshole.”

“I don’t enjoy saying these things to you.” Brad is careful to keep his voice even. “You asked me a direct question, I’m not going to lie.”

“You know, for a career middle manager you’re pretty fucking terrible at-”

Taako’s voice trails off as a sliver of metal shines in the air beside them. Both of them watch as it cuts a diagonal toward the floor, opening a generous slice of gray mist through which a black robed figure strides, an elaborate scythe held in both hands. And then Brad is being grinned at by an elven woman, one whom he hasn’t formally met but recognizes at once. As anyone would.

“Where’s Kravitz?” Taako asks. 

“Nice to see you, too,” she says, apparently unfazed. “Cha’boy’s neck-deep in cult cleanup, so I said I’d come give you a lift.” Her eyes slide over to Brad, then, and mischief curls into the corners of her grin. “Goodness gracious, Koko, is this your _lover_?” She draws the word out with obvious relish.

Taako drags a hand down over his face and groans into his palm. Brad offers his own hand to her, and says, “Brad Bradson. You must be Lup.”

She looks him up and down as they shake. “Quite the name you got saddled with, there, Brad Bradson.”

“Family,” Brad says, “you know how it is.”

“Oh absolutely.” She lays a finger along her jaw. “Let me guess. Son of a Brad?”

“Well spotted.”

“Beats ‘Junior.’”

“By a hefty margin, yes.”

She laughs. “So what brings you to Refuge, Brad Bradson? Here to babysit my brother while he plays headmaster?”

“Taako asked me to consult with his staff regarding logistics for his proposal,” Brad says. His eyes are on Lup, but he catches Taako watching him at the edge of his vision. “We were just about to decide whether to call it a day.” He turns to address Taako, then, whose ears are still low with caution. “I can leave my bag at your apartment for a future visit, if you’d like to take the rest of this evening to catch up with other business.”

“I...no, it’s...” Taako unfolds his arms and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Come over.”

Lup’s eyes flick between the two of them, narrowed and suspicious. But her voice is still bright when she continues, “Anyway, I don’t know what Krav told you, but eff why eye? No way he’s gonna be home tonight.”

“We’re all making dinner,” Taako says, a little petulant.

Lup shrugs. “No you’re not. And honestly? May be a day or two.”

“Is he all right?” Brad asks.

“Oh sure, it’s just...” Lup sighs and gestures with the scythe. “Look, I’ll spare you the gooey details but let’s just say it’ll take us a while to untangle this mess. Literally. Because of all the limbs.” She smirks at Brad. “Wow, you seriously are _nothing_ like I thought you’d be.”

Brad’s alarm spikes a bit at that, but he keeps his voice level. “How so?”

“Well, Taako said you were kind of a jock nerd, but… let’s be serious here, most of the guys he’s brought home are....” She laughs. “You’ve met Kravitz.”

“A few times.”

“That’s the standard issue Taako bait, like he’ll hook up with a big boy now and again but...” She looks him up and down. “How long you kids been dating?”

“That depends on your working definition,” Brad says. 

She laughs. “He’s still there when you wake up in the morning.”

Brad is certain Taako must be red to the tips of his ears by now, but he doesn’t dare chance a look. Just that comment from her, however tossed off, hits him in his chest. “Something like a year, then,” Brad says. “In batches.”

“You don’t _say_.” A thoughtful hum. “Long-term big boy.”

“I didn’t realize I was such a departure from type,” Brad says. 

“She’s exaggerating,” Taako mutters.

“Koko, you’ve been all twink all the time for a literal century.”

Taako groans, agonized. “This is so not worth a ride.”

“I’m flattered to be the exception,” Brad says.

Lup arches an eyebrow at Taako. “Is he always this polite, or am I getting the best behavior version?”

Taako’s face is now entirely hidden by his hands. “Oh my god why are you doing this, what is wrong with you.”

“Koko-”

“Don’t call me Koko when you’re being a shit!”

“Dearest darling Kokonut, this guy let you drag him to your weird school meeting so it’s gotta be pretty serious. And if he’s serious about you, he may as well know what he’s in for.” She grins at Brad again. “Can I get your attunement? I may wanna text you later.”

“You _don’t_ have to,” Taako hisses, even as Brad pulls his Stone from his pocket. “Lup, it’s been a long day, can you maybe haze Brad some other time? Favor to me?”

“If you make me scrap for haze opps, this is what happens.” She taps her and Brad’s stones together with a muttered word, then hands his back. “Alright, this is fun and all but I left Barold alone with a necromantic hedge clipper and that’s a ticking clock right there.”

“Your job is so fucking weird,” Taako says.

“Said your goodbyes? Ready to split?” They both reply in the affirmative, and she lifts her scythe again. “Kitchen or living room?”

She deposits them just inside the front door at Brad’s request -- he prefers to enter rooms from the normal direction, if not the normal method, and both his and Taako’s shoes are dusty from the desert streets. 

“For realsies though, it’s good to meet you, Brad,” Lup says, framed by the rift they’d just stepped through. “Next time let’s get some dinner, hey? We’ll bring the wine, you bring all the juicy Taako office goss.”

“I’ll be sure to organize my notes,” Brad says, “there’s quite a lot of ground to cover.”

Lup snorts as Taako says a loud and pointed “Good _bye_.” Then the rift zips closed again, and Brad and Taako are alone by the coat rack, Taako’s eyes lowered as he silently kicks off his shoes.

Brad crouches to untie his boots. “We should-”

“Yeah,” Taako mutters.

They pad in stocking feet into the kitchen, and choose opposite chairs at the table. Brad sits with his hands folded and watches Taako glower at the tabletop, ears dipped and shoulders an unwelcoming hunch. It brings to mind a disciplinary hearing, although Brad isn’t sure how the roles would fall — which of them is raking the other over the coals.

When Taako finally speaks, the words have the snap and bristle of a cornered animal. “I’m a really fucking good wizard,” he says. “I’ve been to a hundred fucking worlds, I’ve learned shit that no one else alive can do. Those kids would be lucky to learn from me.”

“I’m not questioning your skills, nor your capabilities,” Brad says, quiet. “I am asking you why you’ve chosen this particular task to fill your time.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Taako spits.

Brad frowns. “Whatever you want?”

“Everyone else is out there solving capitalism or whatever, I can’t just bum around the flat reading magazines, I’ll look like a fucking asshole.”

Brad knows to skirt the subtext here -- the history he is perfectly painfully aware of. He says, “You’ve done more than your share of public service, I think.”

“Tell that to Magnus,” Taako grumbles. “Tell that to _Merle_ , god, that motherfucker started some kinda summer camp.”

“Be that as it may,” Brad says, “why a _school_ , Taako.”

“Why not?”

Brad sets his jaw and waits. Better to let Taako fill this silence.

When he does, his voice is brittle. “You could’ve just said you didn’t wanna come today. No one’s making you do this, I’m not like...I’m not gonna break up with you if you say you won’t help with the school.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Brad sighs. “I will gladly support you in whatever you choose to do with your life. I’m not here to dictate that choice. I’m only worried that-” 

“What? That I’m an idiot?”

Brad hesitates. “That you may not have thought this specific option all the way through.”

“So I’m a _hasty_ idiot?”

“That’s not how I would characterize-“

Taako makes a snarled knot of a noise. “Jesus, stop being so fucking _patient_! I’m not your coworker, don’t _handle_ me!”

Brad winces. “This is just how I talk.”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

He does. And he’s embarrassed to have slunk into shielded professionalism without entirely meaning to. “Habit,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.” He sighs and slumps a little, out of his perfect posture. “Taako, you’re so good at so many things. Why choose something that’s so far outside your interests and your strengths?”

“I can do this,” Taako grumbles.

“Of course you _can_ ,” Brad says. “But do you _want_ to?”

Taako scowls across the table, and Brad imagines any number of nasty things that are likely running through his head; all the cutting comments Taako could make, and may still.

Taako snorts and leans his head on his hand. “You just met my twin sister and this is the shit we’re talking about.”

“To be fair, she interrupted.”

“She does that.” Taako rubs his eyes, then looks at Brad directly. “She likes you.”

“I like her,” Brad says.

“Bullshit.”

“I admire her straightforwardness.” A smile pulls at Brad’s mouth. “I definitely don’t feel ‘handled.’”

Taako chukles, only a little thin. “Jesus, Brad, you just met my _sister_.”

“I did.”

“Fuck.” Taako shoves his hands back through his hair and blows out a long breath, his cheeks rounded. “This fucking _day_.”

“Mm.”

“God. All right.” Taako pushes back his chair and stands. “I bought all those ingredients,” he says as he piles his hair on top of his head, twisting it into a knot. “Let’s make the stupid dinner I planned. We can text Kravitz and tell him he’s an idiot for ditching.” 

*

Taako had designed this dinner to be a project for three, and for two it’s a process which easily consumes the evening. The artfully drooping sleeves of Taako’s sweater won’t stay pushed up and out of the way, and so early on he sets Brad up with a few pounds of carrots and a peeler, then slips away to change. He returns a few minutes later in worn jeans and a faded cotton shirt -- one of Brad’s which he “borrowed” early on in the course of things, although Brad knows not to mention it now. Taako’s olive branches are best left unremarked upon.

They aren’t silent while they work, but neither of them says anything of substance. Later, all Brad will remember is a hazy impression of chatter about the recipe they made, the grocery where Taako buys his vegetables, his opinions on which type of sweet potato is best suited for roasting. Taako describes the saga of how he and Kravitz found their stove at a second-hand shop, which Brad has heard before but is content to listen to again. He makes the right noises in all the right spots. It reminds him of big weekend meals at home with everyone crowded into the kitchen, laughing over the same jokes and telling the same old stories, a familiar ritual retread of Bradson family history.

True to Lup’s warning, Kravitz replies once to the group text with a dashed-off vague apology but does not himself materialize. And so Brad and Taako eat together in the kitchen, subdued but somewhat softened. Taako affably complaining about the trend of Kravitz’s absences — how he never misses anything important, but will often disappear for hours or days with little notice, returning home exhausted and contrite with a bottle of wine or a trinket from the field. 

Brad hadn’t any idea of how many nights Taako was spending alone, and isn’t at all sure how to feel about it. Envious, maybe, at how the Reapers can upend their own plans so easily. Without Kravitz to chauffeur him through the planes, it’s not as if Brad can drop by this apartment after work on impulse. 

Assuming he would even be welcome. It isn’t lost on Brad that this is the first evening since the start of their second try that he and Taako have had to themselves. Fretful self-consciousness isn’t really his style, but he can’t help wondering if the trend has been intentional; if his date with Kravitz broke some unspoken rule, whatever Taako’s assurances.

They’re clearing the table when Brad at last surrenders to asking, quietly, “Would you like me to spend the night?”

Taako glances up from his work of wrapping up leftovers. “D’you want to?”

“Of course,” Brad says. 

Taako lowers his eyes again. “Listen, I’m ah...not so much in the _mood_ , if you catch my meaning,” he says, “like just to be clear.”

“All right.”

“So if you wanna go home-“

“I’d prefer to stay here with you,” Brad says. 

Taako checks the clock over the stove. “Well, it’s barely ten, but tee bee aitch I’m real fuckin’ tired.”

“Then let’s turn in once we’re done here,” Brad says as he carries the last of the dishes to the sink. “I brought some reading for work. I’ll have plenty to keep me occupied.”

“Work?” Taako says, half-inside the icebox. “So you’ll what, go through reports while I drool on you?”

“That sounds ideal.”

Taako walks back over to Brad’s end of the kitchen and takes a dish from the drying rack. “You’re weird,” he says as he towels it off.

Brad rinses another plate and hands it straight to Taako. “I’m wise enough to appreciate the simple pleasures in life,” he says, “including a warm elf on an early winter evening.”

“Any old elf, huh? I’m just a walking space heater to you?”

Brad leans over to kiss Taako’s forehead. “You’ll do,” he says, and then goes back to the dishes.

An arm snakes around his waist as Taako leans into him. 

*

It’s all so easy to fall back into. Brad strips down to his boxers and undershirt, fetches his papers from his overnight bag and sets himself up in bed with a pillow behind him. Taako drops most of his own clothes in a pile on the floor and crawls under the covers, shuffling bedding and pillows around until he’s made an acceptable nest for himself, then lays his head in Brad’s lap with a slow, heavy sigh. Brad turns the page of his report -- a summary of the new pension plan, dry as dust -- then shifts his free hand to lightly rest on the side of Taako’s head, fingertips combing through soft waves of hair.

They sit this way for most of an hour. Taako makes a small displeased sound when Brad lifts his hand to turn another page -- the only sign that Taako hasn’t fallen asleep. His body has the sandbag heaviness of exhaustion. 

Brad is most of the way through the appendices when Taako murmurs, “This was supposed to be our thing.”

The file is closed and set on the bedside table. Brad says, “You’ll have to be more specific."

“You guys have music, right? I’m awful at that shit but you and Krav… like y’all can listen to records or… I dunno, sing or whatever. That’s your thing.”

“I suppose so.”

“It is,” Taako says. “And that’s fine, like… I'm not a total asshole, I want him to be happy. And y'all are… I guess you're dating. So. So you'll do stuff together. Like just the two of you.”

“Ah...then, for us...” Brad sighs and cups the back of Taako’s head, thumb moving in circles along his brow. “You brought me to your meeting with Ren.”

“Yeah.”

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

“There are other things that you and I can do together,” Brad says. “As with this evening.”

“Cooking doesn’t count,” Taako mutters, “that’s just _my_ thing, like you can peel a potato I guess but it’s not like you give a shit.”

“Actually,” Brad says, “it was very pleasant to prepare a meal with you. I haven’t made time for it in recent years, but I do like to cook.”

“You’re humoring me.”

“I’m not,” Brad says. “My grandparents taught me all the family recipes when I was young. Corn tusks, stewed greens, savory hand pies.”

Taako chuckles. “Boy, you really are from the foothills.”

“I could show you, if you wanted,” Brad says. “And you could show me your own favorites. Your strange alien cuisine.” Taako groans at that, but Brad presses on, his thumb smoothing the fine curls at Taako’s hairline. “Or we could visit museums. Read books. Travel, when there’s time. Whatever you like.”

“Okay but listen, you could do that crap with anyone,” Taako says. “Like you don’t need to put up with my fuckin’ bullshit to hit up the the Goldcliff Portrait Gallery.”

“Taako, after today I’m wary of implying that you’re anything less that competent,” Brad says, dry, “but you _do_ understand how dating works?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m capable of drinking a pint of ale alone, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather do so with company.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna be _any_ company I wanna be the _best_ company.” Taako’s ear flicks. “Co-best. I can share with Krav. But that’s it.”

“I didn’t realize you were so competitive.”

“Don’t fuckin tease me right now.”

“Mm.” The angle is awkward, but Brad leans down just far enough to kiss Taako’s shoulder. “Outside the context of family, I would hope it’s obvious that your company is preferred by a considerable margin.”

“I think maybe if you tried you could say that in a dorkier way.”

“Clearly something has gone awry in my life that the landscape has shaken out in this manner,” Brad goes on, “but I’m content to make the most of it.”

“See the worst part is that I eat this shit up,” Taako says. “Whatever brain disease you have, it’s catching.”

“There you are, then,” Brad says, “that’s our thread of commonality. Acute mental illness.”

"Don't forget skeleton fucking," Taako says, "we're both on that train to nowhere good."

"Does he really turn-"

"Yeah, and it's weird as _hell_."

"Apparently I'm drawn to weird, then," Brad muses, voice soft; he curls a lock of hair around his finger. "My various life choices all seem to point that way."

"Good," Taako says. He wriggles out of Brad's lap and reclines into his hoard of pillows. "C'mere."

Brad takes off his glasses and then obediently slides down to Taako's level, down under the covers. As soon as he's settled Taako crowds in toward him, lays a hand on his chest and murmurs "c'mere" again in the moment before kissing his mouth.

Heat flares low in Brad's stomach. So much of the day has been difficult, has been off-balance and sharp-edged, but this is very easy. This is good, and welcome. Needed, maybe, and Brad relaxes into it -- the uncomplicated warmth of Taako's body, the soft wet hunger of his lips and his tongue and the greedy wandering of his hands. A stiffening line of heat along Brad’s thigh; a quiet moan against his lips. Fingers in his hair and a knee pushing his legs apart; his shirt rucked up and nipples pinched, just shy of too hard, before the kiss is broken so Taako can take them into his mouth, one after the other. 

Brad asking in a rough whisper; Taako answering with a hand shoved down the front of Brad’s underwear to cup the head of his cock.

Taako rolls onto his back and pulls Brad over him; kisses him eagerly and tugs the shirt off over his head. He drags the waistband of Brad's underwear down far enough for his cock to spring free, and it slides over the bare skin of Taako's stomach as Taako grinds up into him. 

"Wanna be fucked," Taako whispers, "baby, I wanna be fucked by you so bad." He's naked from the waist down and Brad's old shirt has ridden up, bunched under his armpits, which is somehow far more maddening than if he were wearing nothing at all.

Brad can't say no to this, and doesn't want to. He slicks his fingers with a soft hum, and Taako groans into his mouth as he pushes the tip of one inside. "I like it when you call me that," he murmurs between kisses, his hand moving, Taako's hips rocking up to meet him.

"Mmmgood." Taako's leg hooks over Brad's hip, the heel at the base of his spine. Brad feels long fingers wrap around the length of him, gently insistent, coaxing slippery eagerness from the tip. "Baby, you're so fucking good."

Two fingers, now, careful but insistent. Taako's breathing is quick and shallow, a rasp that hitches as Brad works him open. Some other night Brad would make him beg; would murmur low taunts until he shattered. Some other night, but not now.

He knows Taako's body; knows when to slip his fingers out and lift Taako's hips up off the bed, their kisses gone staccato between panting breaths as he takes himself in hand and nudges into place. As he ruts into Taako with a moan he can't quite swallow, overwhelmed with the heat and goodness of him, his thighs around Brad's waist and his grasping hands. Sheets and blankets rusling and the soft sigh of creaking wood, the wet crackle of their mouths and of his cock fucking into Taako's body, rocking him against the pillows. 

Taako's hand slips down between them and he cries out, sharp and shameless, as he spills across their stomachs. Then both his hands are in Brad's hair, making a mess and holding him near, murmuring filth between sloppy kisses. Taako wants to be fucked and filled and owned. Taako _wants_ and Brad is dizzy with it -- the smell of come and sweat, his shirt a white stripe across Taako's chest, Taako's yellow hair splayed on the pillow, Taako's gasps warm on his cheek.

Brad comes with a shudder and a full-throated groan. 

Afterward, it's all he can do to hold himself up on his elbows, and even then his arms still tremble a bit as his breath slows to something like normal. He can feel Taako moving around him as they kiss again, languorous and twined together. 

"We should get cleaned up," he rumbles. "And then we should go to sleep."

Taako sighs, playfully dramatic. "Can't you just, like… bard."

Brad clucks his tongue as he nuzzles up under Taako's jaw. "You'll feel better in the morning if you do it properly."

"That sounds like a problem for Tomorrow Taako."

"Suit yourself," Brad murmurs, and kisses Taako once more before reluctantly rolling off of him. 

When Brad returns from the bathroom, Taako's made the barest effort to reset the bed -- sheets and blankets somewhat straightened, pillows stacked where they should be. Brad's relieved, as he slips back under the covers, to find that the significant wet spot has been spelled away.

Taako is a comma on his side, his eyes closed. He's pulled his hair back into a messy braid that's coiled up over his head. When Brad spoons up behind him, he makes a sleepy pleased little hum and wiggles back against Brad's chest.

Brad kisses the nape of his neck. "Thank you for inviting me along today. It was… enlightening. If not in the manner I'd expected."

"Mm."

"I had a very pleasant evening," Brad says. "I'm a fortunate orc."

"You're a fuckin dork is what you are," Taako murmurs, thick with drowsiness. "I love you, too, go to sleep."

Brad's pulse is suddenly very loud in his ears. Long seconds pass before Taako's body stiffens. 

Brad's arm is still around him as he turns onto his back. Several times over, he opens his mouth to speak before reconsidering. And then, finally, he licks his lips and mutters, "So. I, ah.... I definitely just said that like. Out of habit."

Brad's face is hot. "All right," he says. 

"I'm at home, this is my bed. Our bed." Taako sighs. "My bed and Krav's bed listen, I'm tired."

"I understand, you don't have to-"

"Shut up," Taako snaps, then winces in the dim lamplight. He lifts a hand to touch Brad's wrist. "Brad... baby, just... let me finish."

They're still tucked up together; Brad wonders if Taako can feel how fast his heart is beating.

"So I said that out of habit. But I, ah..." Fingers slide over Brad's knuckles. "I'm okay. With having said it."

"All right," Brad says. 

"I mean I know it hasn't been that long, but..." Another sigh. He turns his head and shifts to bump his forehead against Brad's jaw. "Look, it is what it is. I don't wanna make things weird, I'm just way too tired to tapdance my way outta this right now."

"Taako..." It's late, and Brad is also tired, and he has spent the last few months -- the last half of a year -- shying away from all of this. "It isn't weird," he murmurs.

A breath of a chuckle. "Thanks."

Brad curls a hand around Taako's shoulder. "I wasn't the one who chose to end things before."

"What does that have to do with-"

"Why do you think I'm here?"

Taako's face is hidden. Brad can feel him tense. "If you have something to say to me, say it."

Brad gently pulls Taako closer and bows his head, his nose in Taako's hair. "I love you, too," he murmurs.

"Oh." Another shaky laugh. It sounds relieved. "Okay, uh… wow, yeah."

"Mm."

"You didn't... you never..." A hand on his bare sternum. "How long were you gonna wait to say something?"

"How long were you?"

"God. Fair." Taako burrows in. "I dunno. I dunno, it was easy with Krav, but..." A groan and a sigh against Brad's skin. "I'm too tired to be having this conversation."

"Mm." Such a long day; such a long year. Months of swallowed words and dodged confessions, all finally running him down. It's a relief to surrender but it's also a break in a dam; a river rushing in. "I think… I may be, too," Brad says.

Taako combs his fingers through the hair on Brad's chest. "I don't wanna talk to Kravitz about this yet."

"We'll see."

"Later," Taako says. "But not yet."

How are they here like this, together? How is this what's happened? "All right," Brad murmurs, too drunk on the weight of Taako in his arms to argue with anything now.

Brad hums away the lamplight. Taako's body stills and softens. 

"I love you," Brad whispers into the dark.

"Love you," Taako echoes, distant and drowsy. 

*

Brad lies awake for a long time.

Eventually he slips out of bed, careful not to wake Taako. He finds his boxers in the mess on the floor, pulls them on, then pads down the hall to the living room. 

There are new messages on his Stone, but nothing important. He flicks them away, then searches through the spell for the right conversation -- an ongoing thread with Killian, mostly updates on house renovations and affectionate complaints about Lucretia.

His glasses are still on the bedside table, so Brad holds the Stone up close to his face as he types, _Let's get lunch soon._

Next, to Kravitz : _I'm making breakfast. Come if you can._ He adds Lup in a burst of late-night impulse before he sends it off.

He lights the lamps in the kitchen, then goes to root around in the pantry. A few minutes later he's at the counter with two onions, a bag of cornmeal, a collection of poorly-labeled spice jars, a cutting board, a knife, a bowl, a spoon. None of the aprons are large enough for him, but he manages to tie the largest around his waist, the bib folded over.

He'll make the batter and put it in the ice box and then go back to bed. In the morning he'll show Taako how to fry them up, and maybe Kravitz also. Maybe Lup and Barry. Family around the kitchen table with their cups of coffee, laughing about Taako's school, about stories that happened half a century ago, about an orc in a tiny apron.

Brad and Taako will know what's changed, and that change will be in every meeting of their eyes; every brush of their fingers as they move around the kitchen. 

Brad hums a sphere of silence around himself and sets to chopping onions.

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to RQT and Gulch for their betas on this, and for repeatedly reassuring me along the way that it was going all right. RQT, in particular, deserves a medal for the number of late-night crises of confidence she fielded.
> 
> Title is from [The Opposite of Us](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZqXFjwAfDM), by Big Scary, which is once again a song RQT brought to my attention.
> 
> [@Wildgoosery](https://twitter.com/wildgoosery)


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